Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Walking Into Dawn
Walking the line between light and dark, the half country of dawn, a place of uncertain jurisdiction. Who rules here in The Zone: daylight strictures and rational expectations, or the under-riot of night and possibility?
The elves have it, and the night birds silent in the trees, observing, waiting to take some other form, fulfill some odd prophecy, mutating not into kings or wolves, but confused pigeons with little to say, and clerks at the Safeway stacking bags of grapefruit.
These are my metamorphs, these my changeling princes, and I'll not hear a word against them for they wield a scepter powerful as any sovereign. They command my full attentions, these night princes dawning into mopes waiting for the bus, eagles tight within them until day falls once more.
The elves have it, and the night birds silent in the trees, observing, waiting to take some other form, fulfill some odd prophecy, mutating not into kings or wolves, but confused pigeons with little to say, and clerks at the Safeway stacking bags of grapefruit.
These are my metamorphs, these my changeling princes, and I'll not hear a word against them for they wield a scepter powerful as any sovereign. They command my full attentions, these night princes dawning into mopes waiting for the bus, eagles tight within them until day falls once more.
